Denials and Confessions
by Bil
Summary: How Sam proved she wasn't a zatarc in D&C. SPOILERS for Divide and Conquer. S/J. Complete.


**Denials and Confessions**  
by Bil!

SPOILERS: _Divide and Conquer_ (Hey, that's D&C... So's the title of this story! Yeah, right, anyway...)

Disclaimer: All MGM and co's.

A/N: OK, I'm know this has been done before and you probably don't see any need for a new version. But half the conversation just popped into my head, so I wrote this. It's what I call an "almost romance", which is as close as I usually get to romance, where there is romantic feeling, but there isn't much description of it.

* * *

"Denials and Confessions"

The strap across her forehead was a smidgen too tight. Sam could feel her pulse pounding too fast at her temples, an uncomfortable reminder of her nervousness. She considered asking for it to be loosened, but recognised that for the delaying tactic it was. No, if the Colonel could do this, then so could she. Besides, this was the only way to prove that she wasn't a zatarc... and it *had* been her idea.

For some reason, the idea of going to sleep for an indefinite period of time suddenly seemed quite attractive.

"Colonel O'Neill wouldn't leave," Anise/Freya/whoever-she-was-at-the-moment prompted, apparently thinking the silence had stretched on too long.

Sam managed to restrain herself from glaring at the woman. "No."

"And how did that make you feel?"

How did she *think* it made her feel!

"Major Carter?"

Sam closed her eyes briefly and sighed. Why was it she would rather face a dozen Serpent Guards alone than answer a question like that? "I was scared," she said, wincing as she recognised more than a hint of Jack O'Neill's patented 'Well, *duh*' tone in her voice. She tried to get rid of it. "I was scared. For him, for me. And I felt... guilty. I didn't want him to die, especially not because of me."

She was no longer strapped to the chair in the testing room, but was instead locked behind the shimmering blue of the Goa'uld forcefield, watching her CO, her friend, her - don't go there. Watching his futile struggle to reach her through the impassable barrier despite her pleas for him to leave.

She had almost forgotten this, had blocked out the memory because it was too strong, too painful and far, far too close to a forbidden topic that she would never bring up.

How could she describe what she had felt in those too-long seconds? How could she put into words the complicated morass of emotions that had whirled through her? And how could she tell the truth while making it as innocent and unworthy of courtmartial as possible?

The words flowed from her mouth without conscious control - distantly she hoped that she was getting it right. "I was terrified. I thought we were both going to die, and I wished he would go. A part of me was glad he stayed, though - I didn't want to die alone. Mostly, though, I didn't want him to stay, I didn't want him to die, not because of me. I was angry that he wouldn't go. But..." She trailed off.

"Yes?" Anise prompted, yanking her back to the present.

Her answer wasn't directed to the Tok'ra, however, but to the man standing silently off to one side, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the concrete floor and staring at it, hands deep in his pockets, as if it were the most important thing in the world. "But I understood why he didn't leave."

He looked up at that and their eyes locked as a brief silence reigned, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"You are also not a zatarc."

* * *

Panic bubbled up under her thoughts as the room emptied, leaving only her and Colonel O'Neill, both minus the zatarc burden, but now carrying an even heavier weight: knowledge. On the face of it their words hadn't been too incrimination, but the hidden meanings had been all too clear. And that scared her more than any firefight ever could.

She had never felt this way about anyone, had never known it was actually possible for someone to light up her day by simply existing. It terrified her. And it terrified her even more to think that her feelings were returned. She wanted to turn back the clock, wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, when no one knew anything. If only life were a computer program and you could delete the parts you didn't like...

Well. the next best thing was denial. it was denial that had brought them here, surely they could use it again.

"Sir, none of this has to leave this room."

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. "And we're OK with that?"

The idea of them being a 'we' sent delightful shivers down her spine, but she ignored them. Was she OK with that? Part of her wanted to shout "Hell, yes!" and run away and hide, but another part of her didn't want to lose any of this, meagre as it was. She met his eyes and knew he would abide by whatever decision she made.

And so she made a choice. It might be the right one, it might be the wrong one. But it was made.

"Yes, sir."

They left it in the room. For now, at least.

_Fin_

Copyright 2002


End file.
